At length the Wits mount up, the Hairs ſubſide.
With more than uſual Lightning in her Eyes;
Nor fear'd the Chief th' unequal Fight to try,
Who sought no more than on his Foe to die.
But this bold Lord, with manly Strength indu'd,
She with one Finger and a Thumb ſubdu'd,
Juſt where the Breath of Life his Noſtrils drew,
A Charge of Snuff the wily Virgin threw;
The Gnomes direct, to ev'ry Atome juſt,
The pungent Grains of titillating Duſt.
Sudden, with ſtarting Tears each Eye o'erflows,
And the high Dome re-ecchoes to his Noſe.
And drew a deadly Bodkin from her Side.
(The same, his ancient Perſonage to deck,
Her great great Grandſire wore about his Neck
- In Imitation of the Progreſs of Agamemnon's Scepter in Homer, Il. 2.